


Five Times Steve Rogers Had No Self-Preservation Instict and One Time It Was All Bucky Barnes's Fault

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, Bloodplay, Breathplay, Edgeplay, Gunplay, Impact Play, Knifeplay, M/M, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Unreliable Narrator, off-screen aftercare, steve rogers has no sense of self-preservation, water-based breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Steve needs certain things that Bucky's willing to provide. He doesn't always understand why Steve needs it, but he understands that he does. And Bucky gets something out of it too.And he knows the real reasons Steve needs it as badly as he does.





	Five Times Steve Rogers Had No Self-Preservation Instict and One Time It Was All Bucky Barnes's Fault

**Author's Note:**

> While it may sometimes seem that Bucky is unwilling to participate and take care of Steve's needs, they are both clear that Bucky can and will say no if he honestly does not want to play along.

1)  
Bucky watches Steve out of the corner of his eye. About ten minutes ago Steve’s breathing had change, speeding up just a bit, slight enough that no one else would notice.

But Bucky’s not just anyone else. Bucky notices.

Bucky notices everything when it comes to Steve. His accelerated breathing, his dilated pupils, the way he watches Bucky’s hands as he strips down the Glock and cleans it, reassembles it. The way he takes the Sig Sauer apart and spreads out the components onto a cleaning cloth.

“No.”

Steve flicks his gaze to Bucky and then drops it back down to the table. He reaches out and traces his finger lightly over the barrel.

“No.”

Steve lifts his finger to his lips, sucking it into his mouth. Bucky exhales shakily and turns his attention back to his oil rag. He hears the wet slide as Steve pulls his finger free, but he ignores it. Giving Steve any attention at this point will only make things worse.

Steve’s damp finger strokes the barrel again, and then he curves his hand around it.

“Don’t you dare, Rogers.” Steve ignores him, picking it up and Bucky’s hand closes around Steve’s wrist tight.  
“Rogers.”

Steve leans in, eyes locked on Bucky’s. He licks his lips then closes his eyes, running the tip of his tongue along the barrel.

“Goddamnit.” Bucky growls as he uses his metal hand to grab the barrel and jerk it from Steve’s grip. “No.”

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand this time, his own grip just as strong. He doesn’t look away as he pulls Bucky’s hand closer. Sinking down onto his knees, he wraps his lips around the barrel and sucks lightly.

“Steve…” His voice is hoarse to his own ears, and he knows there’s no point in protesting, but it’s instinct to try and protect the asshole from himself.

Steve shakes his head and pulls back, sliding his tongue into the muzzle, mouth open so Bucky can watch.

“God fucking-” He jerks it away from Steve’s mouth. Steve chases it forward, head falling on Bucky’s knee. He shoves Steve away and starts reassembling the gun, sliding the pieces together quickly.

When he looks down, Steve’s knees are spread so it’s easy to see he’s half-hard. His mouth is Still open, his tongue pressed to the inside of his bottom lip. Bucky slams the magazine home and racks the slide.

Steve moans at the noise, mouth opening wider. Bucky grits his teeth, shakes his head and, after sucking in a deep breath, he slams the butt of the gun into Steve’s temple. Steve gasps and Bucky moves his hand to Steve’s chest and then grips the gun tight, swinging his arm hard and backhanding Steve.

Bucky spins the gun around his finger and presses the muzzle to Steve’s bottom lip. Steve blinks slowly and looks up at Bucky. His mouth had snapped shut with the slap, and there’s blood running down from his temple over the sharp line of his cheekbone. His right cheek is bruised, already swelling slightly. “Open your mouth.” 

Steve keeps blinking, the blue of his eyes barely visible around the black of his pupil. His mouth opens slightly and his lips tremble. Bucky presses harder, indenting the plush flesh of Steve’s lip with the metal. 

“Open your goddamn mouth.” Steve’s jaw twitches, but doesn’t open, so Bucky backhands him again, standing up and putting his foot against Steve’s chest and shoving him backwards. Steve ends up on his back, head slamming into the hardwood floor. He moans again roughly and Bucky settles down hard on his knees, his considerable weight settling on Steve’s chest. “Open. Your. Mouth.”

Steve’s lips fall open and Bucky runs the muzzle over them, tracing the shape of them before pushing the gun in. The front sight catches on Steve’s upper lip, tearing the skin. 

Bucky metal hand catches the small spill of blood and smears it over Steve’s lip before lifting the thumb to his own mouth and sucking on it. Steve’s chest heaves with a rough breath and Bucky smiles. Steve shudders, and Bucky can only imagine that he’s smile is sharp and dangerous. “Suck.”

Steve does. LIps moving up and down the slide, His cheeks hollow out and his lashes falter, dropping now and again so the hot, hungry look he’s giving Bucky disappears. Bucky starts moving the gun, fucking it deeper into Steve’s mouth. He angles the gun slightly, letting the sight scrape across Steve’s soft palate as he slides it back.

Steve groans around the metal, lower lip against the trigger housing, tongue flicking against the flared guard. Bucky wraps both hands around the grip of the gun, holding it steady as Steve tries to take it deeper and deeper. His eyes are dark, hardly any blue at all left around his pupils, and Bucky can read his expression lite it was on the reader board in Times Square. He shakes his head and Steve whines and Bucky whispers something between a curse and a prayer, and, against every rule in the book, closes his eyes as he pulls the trigger.

Steve’s hips jerk off the floor and he sucks harder, spit gathering the in corners of his mouth. He puts his hands on Bucky’s hips then brings his knees up, feet on the floor. Bucky could easily lean back against him, but he knows that’s not what Steve’s offering. He’s offering to control the fucking recoil.

Bucky curses Steve’s name and pulls the trigger again. He can feel the hardness of Steve’s dick pressing against him, feel the heat of it. Steve’s head is back, his neck is arched and his mouth makes obscene wet noises around the gun, suction and spit and he thrusts up against Bucky, his eyes begging.

“Fuck.” Bucky grits the word out and squeezes the trigger again. Every one feels like a fist around his heart, but Steve is holding Bucky’s body still as he grinds up against it. He’s writhing, so turned on his practically choking, trying to get the gun deeper. “I can’t… I can’t fucking believe…”

Steve rolls his hips up, fucking up against Bucky’s ass. Bucky groans roughly, wishing Steve didn’t make him lose his head. But he’s been doing what Steve’s asked him to forever, and even if he could deny his own hard on, the thought of not giving Steve what he wants makes _Bucky_ choke on guilt.

He fires again. Four down, four to go. Steve’s hands shift on Bucky’s hips and he shoves him back just enough that Bucky’s fully seated on Steve’s cock. Bucky can feel it throbbing through the sweatpants they each have on, can feel the wetness as it soaks from Steve’s pants to his. Bucky shifts and squeeze the trigger again. 

Steve is moaning, trying to tug Bucky’s sweats off. Bucky lifts on his knees and fires again as Steve gets them over Bucky’s ass, as his cock springs free. Steve’s hand wraps around Bucky, jerking him in an erratic, uneven rhythm that matches the upward thrust of his hips. Bucky gasps and grinds down onto Steve’s cock, not even realizing he’s pulled the trigger again.

Steve keeps thrusting, but he moves his hands, wrapping them around Bucky’s wrists and forcing the gun deeper. He’s choking on it, and all Bucky can smell is sex and gun oil. Steve’s gasping and groaning and Bucky’s riding down, grinding onto him and he pulls the trigger again and again and again and Steve comes beneath him, wetness spreading over Bucky’s ass.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Bucky drops his left hand to his cock, Steve’s hand Still wrapped around his wrist. Bucky strokes himself, hard and fast and still moving on Steve, still riding down. Steve’s still holding Bucky’s other hand, Still holding the gun into his mouth. Steve gives off a choked little moan and Bucky comes, pulling the trigger one last time.

 

2)  
No one would ever say Steve Rogers was stupid. Impulsive, quick to anger, quick to react, stubborn, rushing headlong into trouble, yes. But not stupid.

He’s also the greatest tactician of his age - both real and accounting for the 70 years in the ice - and, if there’s anything he knows how to do, it’s to plan things so he gets _exactly_ what he wants.

Which is why, when he’s in the gym with Bucky and Natasha, he purposely lets Natasha get the garotte on him, lets her pull it enough to cut the skin, to draw blood. He sees the instant shocked expression on Bucky’s face, the sharp flare of anger, and then he sees Bucky’s eyes drop to Steve’s groin.

Skin tight workout clothes don’t leave much to the imagination.

Steve reaches up and taps on Natasha’s wrist. She releases her grip immediately and drops to the ground, walking around to look at him. “I’m beginning to think James is right. You are an idiot.” Natasha doesn’t drop her gaze, but Steve imagines she doesn't have to. He just assumes she’s omniscient. She reaches up and rubs her thumb along the line she left. She calls him something in Russian, and Steve doesn’t have to speak the language to know exactly what she means

She grabs a towel and leaves, the silence palpable in the air of the gym. Bucky shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes.” He can already feel the heat flooding his chest, burning him up inside. He’s given up thinking he shouldn’t want these things. He’s given up caring. He reaches up and touches the cut the wire had left and presses it, even though it’s faded to just a thin line by now. He takes three fingers and rubs them up and down his throat, pushing on his adam’s apple.

Bucky shakes his head again, eyes narrowed, but Steve can see the spark in them. Can see the heat that Bucky would vehemently deny. But it’s there. Because Steve wants it. “Steve…”

Steve launches forward, tackling Bucky to the ground. Suddenly they’re not the Winter Soldier and Captain America fighting. They’re Steve and Bucky on even ground, fighting dirty like they did when they were kids. Bucky was always careful with Steve until Steve goaded him to the edge of frustration and he got a little rougher, a little closer to normal which was all Steve ever wanted.

And then Steve would thrust his hip ups. He does it again now and Bucky shudders above him. He’s turned on. Steve’s not sure they can _not_ be turned on by each other. Bucky catches Steve’s wrists and pins Steve’s arms to the mat above his head. With a hard, sharp bite to Steve’s lower lip, Bucky shakes his head.

“No.”

Most everything else, Steve can get Bucky to work with him, but this one requires a fight. This one requires Steve pushing Bucky to an edge that he hates that he has. This one requires Steve reminding Bucky of every annoying, frustrating, desperate thing he did as a kid so he can bring out all of Bucky’s anger and anxiety that he never would have shown. 

They struggle with each other, not quite fighting, but not quite not, and Steve knows Bucky wants him to give in, wants him to just accept this isn’t going to happen. Instead Steve struggles and flips them, straddling Bucky and looming over him. He smirks down at him, and he sees the anger he’s been looking for flash in Bucky’s eyes. He’s not angry at Steve. Never at Steve. Circumstances and shit luck and the march of history in their blood, but as soon as it’s there, Steve knows he’s the only target Bucky can take it out on.

He leans in and whispers against Bucky’s ear. “‘S the matter, Buck? Giving up?”

Bucky growls and shoves Steve off of him, shoves him onto his back. Steve goes, easily and loosely, careful not to react when Bucky straddles him. “I fucking hate you, Rogers.” 

Steve would believe him if his voice weren’t so thick with lust. For all that Bucky hates this, he loves it too. He presses his flesh hand alongside Steve’s neck,, rubbing his thumb from below his chin down to the hollow of his throat. He pushes lightly and angles his thumb down. Steve swallows against it, arching up.

Bucky’s mouth sets in a line and he presses harder, thumb settling into the notch of Steve’s collarbone. He pushes down and back and Steve can feel the sharp pain, but it’s not enough. Bucky knows it’s not enough and Steve makes a noise in his throat. Bucky shakes his head and huffs a breath out of his nose, moving his thumb up and down Steve’s throat again, pressing harder.

“Buck. C’mon.” He blinks up at him. He can feel the tears in the corner of his eyes, a mixture of pain and want. He tilts his head back, offering up his throat. “Please.”

He can practically hear the arguments Bucky’s given him before. That surely Steve got enough of this as a kid, that Steve _likes_ breathing. It hasn’t changed Steve’s mind yet. He knows it won’t. They both know it won’t.

“Fucking lucky I love you.” Bucky ducks his head and kisses Steve quick and hard. He leans back, letting his weight rest on his right hand until he’s sitting then he leans in again pressing his metal forearm lightly over Steve’s throat. Steve swallows and he can feel the press of it. HIs cock hardens more, aching and hot between his legs.

“Do it,” Steve breathes.

And then he can’t.

Bucky’s arm is a weapon and, like every gun and knife he’s ever held, he wields it with precision. The pressure builds achingly slowly, but even before it’s all there, even before the weight all bears down on him, his breath is caught in anticipation. 

He manages a couple of swallows and a gasp when his lungs feel at capacity and then Bucky takes it all away from him. Steve feels it slipping, feels it all building below Bucky’s arm. He feels the blood pumping to useless lungs, to the hummingbird fast beat of his heart, to the pool of it throbbing in his dick. It fights the lightness of his head, the pain behind his eyes. They start to burn and Steve tries to keep them open, watching Bucky’s face as he looms over him, watching the colors around him swim in and out, light slipping into waves that shimmer and then crash around Steve. 

It’s light and then it’s blue and purple and black, pulsing like living things, like a manifestation of the blood Steve can’t feel in his head, like the air that hovers on his lips but can’t reach his lungs. He vaguely knows he’s coming though he doesn’t know for sure how or what exactly it means but it’s there and light ceases to exist and everything goes from pain to nothing. It’s the most perfect thing Steve’s ever felt. As long as he can still feel, just before it all goes numb.

And then there’s air, sweet cold air that forces itself through Steve’s nose and mouth, as desperate for his lungs as they are for it. Steve heaves and coughs and his hands are wrapped around Bucky’s metal arm like a vice, fingers as bloodless as his brain until it’s full, too full, feels like it’s going to explode. He feels everything - Bucky’s weight, the wetness between his own legs, the fireworks of the capillaries in his eyes. .

He swallows air like he’s drowning in huge gasps that bring streaks of light in the fuzziness surrounding him. His voice is wrecked, desperate as he tugs on Bucky’s arm. “Again.”

“No.” It’s not a denial so much as a plea and Steve tugs harder. 

“Again.” He can feel Bucky’s erection against his Stomach, can feel his own cock swelling once more. “Please.”

Bucky makes a noise somewhere between pain and want and then it’s there again. Metal and throat like a kettle hissing steam. The colors rush in faster this time, his heart already pounding.. He feels like he’s drowning again, like an asthma attack when he couldn’t suck in air when he was trying and it’s good. So good. Perfect. He wants to tell Bucky. Tell him how good it is, how it’s everything, how _he’s_ everything, but the words are stuck beneath Bucky’s arm, beneath unrelenting plates of metal. He feels the heat of his body, the trapped blood in his head burning his face and making it feel swollen and bloated. His mouth is moving in unspoken words, in the desperate, desperate need to breath. 

The colors - red this time and orange and purple like a sunset and then black like night with stars exploding into hot flashes of supernova. Bucky pulls his arm off and moves off Steve. Steve grabs his own throat loosely, protection instead of pain. Bucky’s breathing hard and his left hand is clenched into a fist. 

He doesn't scare Steve, couldn’t. Steve simply moves in closer, head on Bucky’s chest, hand on his lower abdomen where there’s a sticky patch of come, the head of Bucky’s dick still peeking out from the waistband of his work-out gear. 

“Thank you,” Steve croaks out, even though it’s barely a whisper. Bucky doesn’t answer, just puts his hand on Steve’s head before he runs his fingers through Steve’s sweaty hair.

 

3)  
Bucky has always had a knife. Pocket knife. Switchblade. A Stiletto he found on an Italian during the war. He likes knives. He’s excellent with a gun, but sometimes it’s up close and personal. Before Hydra, he’d killed four people with a knife. Two in the war, one on the docks by accident in a fight, and one on purpose for what the asshold did to Steve.

He used a knife for Hydra. He used a knife fighting Steve. 

And now, because Steve has the brain of a very small box - or he does - he’s using it for this. 

Steve is lying on the bed, wrists bound with mag cuffs to the reinforced headboard. He’s naked and hard just from anticipation, and Bucky keeps wondering how he gets himself into these situations. Except he knows. God, he knows. 

Steve’s uniform is crumpled on the floor and his shield is half-hanging off the couch in the living room. Bucky’s still in his black tac gear and Steve’s dick is leaking, clear drops of pre-come dripping off the head onto his stomach. 

Bucky takes out a knife, twirling it between his fingers. Steve does a shitty job of stifling his groan, and an even shittier one hiding his gasp when Bucky throws the knife and it embeds in the headboard a half-inch above Steve’s head.

“Oh, fuck, Bucky.” His voice is throaty, thick and rough.

Bucky pulls out another knife and holds it loosely, hilt cupped in his palm. He tips his hand and lets the knife fall, not looking at it as he watches Steve watch it fall. He catches it just before it reaches Steve’s leg, but he presses it down as he does and slides the razor tip of it from the top of Steve’s inner thigh to his knee. There’s a thin line of red that disappears practically before Bucky’s done. Steve lets out a loud stuttering breath, his body shaking with it. Bucky ignores him, letting the cool of the blade rub against Steve’s balls before he brings the tip back to the crease of Steve’s thigh. He applies pressure this time, letting the knife break the surface. Blood wells up in its wake, beads of red on Steve’s pale skin.

“O-oh.” Steve keeps shivering and Bucky watches the wound start to close before pushing the knife in again, deeper this time. He gets to the knee and draws the knife upward this time. Steve’s bleeding more as the cut goes deeper and Bucky lifts the knife away. He waits until Steve’s eyes focus, focus on him, and then he licks the blood off the blade.

The cuffs strain as Steve tries to curl in on himself, body jerking as he comes. It makes more blood spill, small trails of it trickling down to the mattress. Bucky puts the knife back to Steve’s skin and presses it into the cut then jerks his hand hard to the right. Steve gasps, but Bucky’s hand is steady, and he knows without looking, if he pulled the skin apart, he’d see the hard pulse of Steve’s femoral artery.

“B-buck.” Steve’s panting roughly, his cock hardening again already. Bucky pulls the knife out and shifts it to his left hand, driving it into Steve’s left inner thigh. “O-oh.” Steve barely manages the sound, choking on it. When Bucky pulls the knife free, Steve’s blood comes rushing out, pooling beneath him. 

He puts the tip back at the edge of the cut and slowly slides the knife up toward Steve’s cock. It’s not as deep, barely parting the skin, slicing through it easily. He presses the tip to Steve’s perineum and Steve’s balls tighten, drawing away from the cold steel.

He doesn’t break skin as he moves it up, the tip slipping between Steve’s balls. He could push and easily dissect the sac, but Steve’s reaction is just as good. He presses in slightly at the base of Steve’s cock, a pinprick of blood. Bucky moves up the bed and straddles Steve’s spread thighs, the rough fabric of his uniform hard against Steve’s dick.

Steve’s looking at him glassy-eyed and his cock is leaking again. There’s come pooled on his stomach, glistening in the light. The same light hits the knife and Bucky angles it so the glint hits Steve in the eyes. Steve flinches it like it’s something to defend against and, while he’s got his eyes closed, Bucky leans in and fits the knife to the center of his collarbone and drags it down. Steve’s ribs, his stomach, his abs. Pale skin and dark blood and silver knife. 

Steve groans, his mouth open so he can pant, the sounds desperate as they fall past Steve’s lips. Bucky draws the knife upward, following the same path, leaning in and running his tongue behind it, lapping up Steve’s blood until it covers his tongue, fills his mouth. He knows Steve comes again, he can feel the pulsing of his cock. He’s shaking his head, pulling on the cuffs, coiled and hissing like a snake, but pleasure is dripping off him like the blood.

Up his throat to his chin. Along the curve of his lips. Down his biceps. Bucky leaves tracks and trails on Steve in blood, in red split skin. He leaves his mark up and down and over and across Steve’s body until there’s almost nothing of him not covered in dried or drying blood, bleeding or rapidly healing skin.

There’s one spot untouched and Bucky looks down at it. His smile is probably cruel. There’s a perverse pleasure in Steve unable to beg, unable to fight, unable to do anything but let Bucky do this to him. Bucky twirls the knife and brings the tip gently to the head of Steve’s cock, pressing it into the slit.

Steve’s body practically levitates off the bed, the force of movement lifting Bucky up. The sound Steve makes is more of a gurgle than anything else and Bucky presses the knife just a little further in. Steve comes again, and for an instant it’s sliced by the knife and Steve is mewling, shaking, 

Bucky runs the tip of the blade down Steve’s dick to the base and then moves off of him. Steve is gasping and panting and shaking and one of the most beautiful things Bucky’s ever seen. He licks his knife clean, knowing Steve’s watching. As soon as it’s free of blood and come he throws it, landing it even closer to Steve’s head. Steve just shakes uncontrollably and Bucky grabs his ankles, flipping him over easily. Steve’s arms twist in the cuffs, muscles standing out in sharp relief. Bucky sheds his clothes as he listens to Steve’s soft noises as every movement he makes brushes open his wounds. 

Bucky crawls up Steve’s body and settles just below his ass, dick pressed hard in the cleft. He leans in and grabs both knifes, one in each hand, and frees them from the headboard, trailing them down Steve’s arms. He pushes just deep enough and blood flows down Steve’s arms to his armpits. Steve flexes the muscles of his ass, massaging Bucky’s cock. Bucky reaches Steve’s shoulders and traces his scapulae, cutting the outline of them before drawing a line down each. 

Steve’s whimpering and it’s glorious, a desperate sound. Bucky’s cock is leaking, dripping onto Steve’s body and sliding down the crack of his ass. Steve's ass clenches again and Bucky holds back a noise. Steve likes him silent .Steve wants him silent until Bucky’s fucking him and sucking bloody bruises against his jugular.

Shifting onto his heels, Bucky stares down at the vast expanse of Steve’s back. The muscles are bunched, so Bucky reaches up and deactivates the magnet holding the cuffs to the bed, though Steve’s wrists are still locked together. His back relaxes somewhat and Bucky presses the knives to just between Steve’s shoulder blades. The next cuts are swift and sharp, digging in deeper than any of the others. His hands part then spread, coming together, apart again and then up together. Blood is leaking copiously from Steve’s back, the dark red Star spilling tendrils that lace over his skin and trail down to the small of his back, pooling the same reddish-black of the book of Bucky’s trigger words.

Steve’s sobbing, Still shaking, every muscle jerking. Bucky bends and drags his tongue through the blood then, grabbing his dick, he pushes into Steve’s already slick hole. He fucks down into him and there’s no gentleness, no mercy. Steve doesn’t want mercy. He wants to turn his head as Bucky leans in and suck his own blood off Bucky’s tongue and lips. It’s sloppy blood drips from both their mouths. They lick it up as Steve comes beneath him, biting Bucky’s lip hard enough that his blood mixes copper in too.

He’s not sure when he comes because he can’t stop thrusting until there’s too much sensation and hye realizes it’s him whimpering and not Steve. 

 

4)  
It’s Tony’s fault.

That pisses Bucky off on two levels - one because Steve didn’t _need_ another thing, another high to pursue - and the other - that in no universe did Bucky want to find out that Steve got a hard on because of Tony Stark. 

Steve’s been underwater for nearly five minutes. Tony has too, but Tony has a fucking suit that has oxygen. Bucky has mortally wounded - completely by accident, honest - the latest in a line of assholes trying to take over the world because the guy had sent a powerful blast of something that knocked Tony into Steve and blew both of them over the bridge. Bucky tosses Steve’s shield to Natasha and jumps into the water. 

This is getting to be a bad habit. 

He finds Tony first and is tempted to leave him there, but it’s clear that the blast was an EMP, and the suit is down for the count. Tony can’t get himself out of this shit. Steve’s nowhere to be found and Bucky has to push down the panic that’s rising in his chest. 

He breaks the surface and shouts Sam’s name. Fortunately Sam’s close enough to dive in and grab Tony, even though the suit weighs a hell of a lot. Tony’s head’s above water as Sam mostly drags him to the shore though. Bucky dives down again, chest aching, though it has more to do with the fact that he _can’t find Steve_ than anything else.

Eight minutes, going on nine. Bucky’s heard stories of how the Valkyrie went down, how it was found. He dragged Steve out of the Potomac. Goddamned stealth suit that’s practically invisible in the murky water.

He sees a shift of something and kicks himself deeper into the water. A star. Thank fuck. He grabs Steve and doesn’t allow himself to think, just pushes toward the surface, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in to get Steve out, get Steve to air, get Steve.

Bucky sucks in air as they break the surface, swimming harder than ever to get Steve to shore. He drags him up, ignoring his brain’s reminder of the last time, and lays Steve on the ground. This time he doesn’t walk away. He starts CPR and mouth to mouth because Steve isn’t fucking _breathing_ in all the ways that aren’t like Bucky’s arm to his throat.

“C’mon you son-of-a-bitch. Sorry Mrs. Rogers.” He breaks for mouth to mouth again as Natasha drops beside him. 

“I got this. Chest.”

Bucky nods, because he’s the only one strong enough. He counts in his head, pulling off so Natasha can give Steve the parody of a kiss. It’s taking too long, it’s taking forever. He’s on the fifth set of compressions when Steve coughs, water spilling out of his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” Bucky gasps, rougher than he intended. Natasha helps him roll Steve onto his side. She leans against Bucky as Steve retches and coughs, gags as he tries to inhale. The rest of the Avengers come over, Sam squatting down to stroke fingers through Steve’s sodden hair. Bucky wants to snap at him, remind him that Steve’s _his_ to touch, but Steve’s holding Bucky’s hand like a lifeline.

Steve coughs hard again and nods. Bucky tightens his grip slightly and helps him sit up. “We get him?”

“Yeah.” Bucky leans in and rests his forehead against Steve’s. “We got him.” He pulls back just enough to make sure Steve’s okay because he knows Steve had taken a few hits in the fight. His gaze stops short when he looks down. Everyone else has stepped away to give them a moment of privacy and Bucky’s eyebrows go up. “Really?”

“Sorry?” Steve’s voice is raw which, in turn, gives Bucky the same problem Steve’s having. 

He shakes his head. “No.”

Steve nods. 

Bucky doesn’t believe him for a second.

*

It’s like drowning but not. It’s hot heavy wet clotting choking desperate unbearable. 

Perfect.

The deluge stops and Steve gasps, sucking in cloth and water. He coughs and then it’s back, cold and hard and pounding and all over his face. In his nose, in his mouth, in his eyes. He’s soaked with it, naked body shaking from cold and sensation. It stops again and he tries to breath, his whole body on fire, his face pulsing. There’s water in his ears, but even with that he hears Bucky’s voice as he leans closer.

“You sure you can take it, Stevie?” It’s a dare and a threat and a promise. Steve’s cock twitches, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer when the water starts again. He can’t help but try to move out from under the spray, instinct kicking in, but Bucky holds him, one hand on Steve’s chest and the other wrapped around his cock. 

Steve sucks in water as Bucky starts stroking him, hard and fast and tight. Steve’s face is numb, eyes burning, chest aching. He tries not to breathe but Bucky’s hand is relentless, making Steve gasp in water, making him try to cough at the same time until he starts choking, using what strength is left in his heavy, trembling limbs to shove Bucky away.

He sinks to the floor and Bucky turns the water off. Steve thinks he can feel it drip down out of the full utility sink, but he’s too busy jerking the cloth out of his mouth, sucking in air like a drug. Bucky squats down across from him, rubbing Steve’s shoulder as he coughs.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.” Steve’s eyes feel too big for his face when he looks up, not needing his vision to be clear to know the look on Bucky’s face. “You’re okay.”

Steve’s head falls back against the sink. He barely hears his voice through the pounding in his ears. “More.” He glances down at himself, naked and pale and hard, sitting on the concrete floor of a warehouse Bucky had found or owns. Steve’s not clear on the details. Steve’s not clear on anything right now. He takes Bucky’s hand and guides it to his cock, squeezes it around him. “More.”

Bucky groans low in his throat and the sound causes Steve’s cock to twitch in his hand. “Gonna be the death of me, Rogers.” He releases Steve and then hooks his hands under Steve’s arms and pulls him to his feet. Steve’s eyes flutter, almost rolling back in his head, and he sways even in Bucky’s grasp. 

Bucky jerks him forward and kisses him, hard and deep, as suffocating as the water and the cloth, only it feels like Bucky’s bringing him back to life. He pulls back and moves in again, taking Steve’s mouth over like a full-on frontal assault. 

When he pulls away, Steve can barely breathe, panting roughly. Bucky uses the moment to grab the back of Steve’s head, handful of hair in his metal fist. He shoves Steve around and drives him head-first into the overflowing sink.

 

The sensation is familiar; he’s never forgotten the feel of his lungs not working, of his asthma refusing to let him breathe, his body trying to suffocate him. His face is tingling and his lungs feel like they’re forcing their way out of his chest. Panic roars through him and he fights against Bucky’s implacable grip.

His heart is pounding and he has to exhale, sucking in a breath, water filling his nose and mouth. Bucky’s grip tightens and he pulls Steve out of the water and holds him against his chest. “Breathe.”

Steve nods and coughs, shaking roughly. There’s a mirror over the sink and he can see the redness of his eyes standing out starkly against the white of his skin. He takes several breaths before the panic starts to ebb. Bucky’s breath is warm on his neck. Goosebumps rise on his skin. “B-buck.” His voice rasps out of his chest and even the single word hurts.

“Shh. I’m right here.”

Steve nods and then everything goes black as Bucky forces him into the water again without any warning. The sharp cold hits him and Steve falls to his knees. His throat hits the edge of the sink and he moans, water flooding his mouth, his lungs. His body jerks, panic flaring again and he grips the edges of the sink. He can’t hear the metal twisting, but he can feel it crumpling in his hand.

Bucky yanks Steve’s head out of the water and Steve slumps backwards. Bucky sinks to his knees as Steve goes down, pulling him back against him. Sobs shake Steve’s body, water running out of his mouth and down his chin. He looks down and his cock has softened, his legs and stomach spattered with come, as is the sink.

Bucky moves and sits on the floor, pulling Steve onto his lap. “I’ve got you. Got you, Stevie.”

Steve hasn’t stopped shaking and he buries his face against Bucky’s neck. Bucky reaches behind them and grabs a folded blanket, pulling it over then draping it over Steve’s shoulder. Steve tugs it completely around them then huddles under it, pulling it around both of them. Bucky’s clothes are soaked as well, and the blanket wards the cold away. The warm, familiar smell of him takes the place of the cold sharpness of the water.

“So beautiful,” Bucky murmurs into Steve’s wet hair. “So fucking beautiful.”

He shivers and presses closer, mouthing at Bucky’s neck. He’s acting on instinct again, primal and not thinking. His brain just processes _Bucky_ and nothing beyond that. Bucky’s arm is around his waist and his metal fingers run easily through Steve’s hair. He kisses Steve’s temple and murmurs his name.

Steve finally moves his head back and looks up at Bucky. Everything still hurts – his eyes, his lungs, his chest, his heart – but he meets Bucky’s eyes and leans in, kissing him softly. Bucky kisses back, just as soft, so careful. Steve kisses him again, again and again until all he can breathe is Bucky.

“Shh. I got you.”

Aftershocks run through Steve and he starts shaking even harder. Bucky holds him closer, and Steve shifts so he’s straddling Bucky’s lap, body flush agaist his. His hands rake up and down Bucky’s back, finally sliding beneath Bucky’s shirt. “Please.”

“Can do it later. Let you catch your breath. Take you home to bed.”

Steve shakes his head and pushes Bucky’s shirt up and off. “Here. Now. Like this.” He’s shaking with want and need and cold and all he wants is Bucky inside him. “Please.”

Bucky groans and rolls them over, settling between Steve’s thighs. The cold from the cement seeps up through the blanket, but Bucky’s warm above him. Digging lube out of his pocket, Bucky rips it open with his teeth before spreading it on his fingers. Steve spreads his legs wider, moaning thickly as Bucky pushes two fingers in.

Bucky’s eyes are locked on Steve’s. Steve thrusts up against Bucky’s hand, clenching around his fingers. “Don’t need more prep. C’mon. Please, Buck. Need you.”

Bucky groans softly and pulls his fingers free, using them to guide his cock against Steve’s hole. Their gazes hold until Bucky pushes in and then Steve’s eyes drop closed. They move together in an age-old rhythm, bodies rocking against each other. Steve wraps his legs around Bucky’s and arches up against him.

Bucky braces himself, fists on the ground on either side of Steve’s head. He thrusts hard and Steve feels the length and width of him push deeper. His own cock is trapped between them, slipping against wet and sweaty skin. Bucky drops down and kisses him, hungry and hard. “Love you,” he breathes. “So much, you fucking idiot.”

Steve laughs, the sound melting into a low groan as Bucky’s muscles grow taut and he thrusts deep, coming inside him. He keeps moving, their bodies trapping Steve’s cock, the friction pushing him to the edge until everything but Bucky ceases to exist and Steve comes.

 

5)  
“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “Have I ever been kidding when you ask me that?:”

Bucky sighs. “A guy can hope.”

Steve’s face goes blank and he shrugs, getting up from the table and carrying his plate to the sink. Bucky closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No. I don’t.” Steve scrapes the remains of his meal into the trash, rinses the plate, and puts it in the dishwasher. “It’s fine. I told you that. Nothing you didn’t feel comfortable with.”

Bucky exhales and walks over to him, hands grasping the counter on either side of Steve. He steps close, pressed to Steve’s back. “Hey.”

“No.” Steve’s hands are wrapped over the edge of the sink. His shoulders are hunched and his head’s bowed. Bucky rests his forehead between Steve’s shoulder blades. 

“I told you I’d say no if I needed to.”

Steve shrugs, effectively dislodging him. “Sounded a lot like a no.”

Bucky lets go of the counter and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. “Do we lie to each other?”

He’s quiet for a long moment before he leans back against Bucky. “No.”

“I’m guessing you’ve got everything already?” Bucky kisses Steve’s shoulder as he shrugs. Bucky laughs quietly. “My Boy Scout.”

“The Boy Scouts are a deeply flawed organization.”

Bucky laughs again, kissing Steve’s neck from the top of his spine to the soft hairs at the nape. He runs his hand down from Steve’s waist to the front of his pajama pants. Steve’s not hard, but he starts to thicken beneath the pressure of Bucky’s hand. “Have I ever told you that moral indignation turns me on?”

“Pretty sure you said that the first time you kissed me.”

“Nah. First time I kissed you, I begged you not to punch me.” He squeezes Steve lightly. “So I’m assuming you have all the stuff?”

Steve exhales and nods.

“You know I’ve got a metal arm, right? Doesn’t that kind of fit the bill?”

“It wouldn’t work.” Bucky can tell the thought of the arm arouses Steve, can feel it as Steve’s hips roll forward and he presses into Bucky’s hand. He tilts his head to the side and Bucky presses his lips to Steve’s throat.

“Why’s that?” He murmurs againSt Steve’s skin.

“You’d go too easy on me if you use your arm.” Steve laces his fingers with Bucky’s metal ones. Bucky breathes deeply then closes his eyes. He knows Steve’s right.

“Okay. Okay. Show me what you’ve got.”

Steve slips away and Bucky follows him to the bedroom. There’s a box on the dresser. He runs his finger along the top of it. Glancing over, he sees Steve at the end of the bed, his head bowed.

“Jesus Christ, Steve.” Bucky’s chest goes tight, tighter still as Steve sinks to his knees. Bucky struggles to swallow. “I swear to god, Rogers, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Opening the box and unpacking it slowly, Bucky pulls the items out, running his hands over each one. He glances over at Steve who still hasn’t moved. Bucky’s breathing hasn’t gotten any easier. He expects a paddle, but he should have known Steve wouldn’t start small. The first thing he removes is a thick black bullwhip. Beneath that is a flogger with chainmail tails, each tipped with a diamond-shaped piece of metal. Bucky touches the ends and raises his eyebrows at the sharpness. “Where’d you get this? Kinky Superheroes Are Us?”

 

Steve shrugs and Bucky goes back to the box. The last item is a long, thin bamboo cane. Bucky runs the cane between his flesh fingers then licks his lips. He sets the cane down and carries the whip and the flogger to the bed, He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he puts the flogger on the nightstand. Walking away, Bucky moves behind Steve and runs the curved bottom of the whip handle down his neck. 

“Stand up, Steve.” Steve moves like silk as he gets to his feet. Bucky walks around him, taking in his trembling hands, the tension in his body. “Look at you.”

Steve shivers, his breath shuddering out of him. Bucky sees Steve’s eyes close, lashes dark on his pale skin. 

Bucky adjusts his grip slightly then snaps the whip, close enough for it to wrap around Steve’s waist, more of a caress than a strike. Steve gasps roughly as Bucky twitches his hand to get the whip to loosen. Steve stays completely still as Bucky recoils it then lets it fall to the ground at his feet. Steve swallows hard and Bucky smiles. He waits, the anticipation building. Steve’s fingers twitch and Bucky snaps the whip at his side. The noise stops Steve, even his breathing.

Bucky keeps waiting until he can tell Steve’s knees are about to lock, then he cracks the whip, letting it wrap around Steve again, the tail hitting him mid-chest. “Good?”

Steve nods, voice rough as he responds. “Good.”

“Shirt off.”

Steve fumbles slightly as he tugs his t-shirt up and off. Bucky can see the slight pink line already fading. Steve’s barely back in position when Bucky uses the whip again, the leather hissing through the air before solid impact, wrapping over Steve’s arms and chest. He pulls it back, whip snaking over Steve’s skin. Steve’s breath catches and Bucky can see the goosebumps on his skin.

“Pity the marks won't last.” Bucky pitches his voice low just to see Steve’s body react. Before he can even think of saying anything in response, Bucky cracks this whip again, this time painting a red welt on Steve’s back.

“O-oh.” Steve moans. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover, pulling the whip back and using it again, this time leaving the mark slightly lower. He glances down and Steve’s cock is thick and hard, tenting his pajama pants, a wet spot dark on the faded, light-blue fabric.

Another strike and another, not stopping so Steve can rest or react. Soon his entire back is covered in welts, straight lines and ones that cross over them as Bucky makes his way around the room, getting Steve from every side. 

Steve’s breathing is ragged, his fists clenched, but the rest of his body is almost loose, leaning into every lash. His pajama pants are a mess, wetness soaking the front, trails of it leaking down Steve’s thighs.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember telling you that you could do that.”

“‘M sorry. Sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t-”

“Get that mess off of you.”

Steve scrambles out of his pants, nearly falling over in his haste. He keeps apologizing as he rubs the cotton over his cock and balls and down his thighs in a rush to do as Bucky said. Sweat slides down his back into the welts, and he shakes, his words garbled with a mixture of hisses, moans, and apologies.

Steve sraightens and Bucky immediately snaps the whip so it lands sharp and hard across Steve’s broad shoulders. “Red back. White skin.” Bucky laughs. “On the bed and we’ll work on the blue balls.”

Steve sinks to his knees on the mattress, carefully not looking at Bucky. “H-how?”

“Back.”

Steve turns and sinks down onto his back. He moans as he stretches out on the mattress, back arching to keep the pressure off the welts until his weight rests on his shoulders and he doesn’t know where to go or how to move. Bucky places his left hand on Steve’s stomach, pushing him down.

“That was nothin’, Stevie. Gonna hurt you now.”

“Please. Please, Buck.” His whole body is flushed, his cock hard again. Bucky moves his hand down and flicks it with metal fingers. Steve makes a noise deep in his throat in response, and Bucky knows he has Steve almost exactly where he wants to be. He grabs Steve’s balls and squeezes, grip tightening until Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he goes pliant, surrenders.

“There you are.” Bucky loosens his hand slowly, letting the fingers of his right hand trail over Steve’s chest as he takes the flogger in his other hand. “Still with me?”

Steve smiles, slow and easy. “Always.”

“My beautiful, reckless boy.” Bucky breathes the words before inhaling deeply as he rests the flogger on Steve’s stomach. Steve shivers and brings his hand up to touch it, fingers stroking the chain, the sharp metal tips.

Bucky lifts it, letting Steve’s fingers slide through the individual chains. Free of the flogger, he rests his hand on his stomach until Bucky moves it away. Steve takes a deep breath and exhales and, as his lungs empty, Bucky brings the flogger down lightly on Steve’s chest.

Steve reflexively pushes back against the mattress, aggravating the welts that Bucky knows haven’t quite healed. Steve whimpers, but his eyes open, unfocused as they land on Bucky.

“Don’t worry.” Bucky leans over and brushes a kiss against Steve’s lips. “Not done with you.”

When he pulls back, Steve’s lips are parted and his eyes are closed again. Bucky rubs the flogger over Steve’s chest, some of the sharp edges of metal catching on his skin. Steve sucks in a sharp breath and Bucky pulls the flogger back, smiling at the pinpricks of blood he leaves behind.

Flicking his wriSt, he brings it back down quickly, three short Strokes. Each time he pulls it back and snags more skin until Steve’s chest is blood-smeared. Tears are leaking from Steve’s eyes, drying against his hot skin.

Bucky runs his fingers through the blood, pressing three to Steve’s lower lip. Steve’s tongue darts out, licking at them until Bucky slides them into his mouth. He sucks hungrily, mindlessly. Bucky pulls them free and Steve whines, trying to catch them again.

“Easy,” Bucky whispers.

Steve slumps back against the bed, obeying immediately. Bucky hums in satisfaction, marveling slightly that Steve’s doing what he’s told. Steve melts at the sound, and Bucky wishes he had a photo of Steve like this, totally given over.

Bringing the flogger down again, he focuses on Steve’s abs and the soft skin of his stomach. He jerks it back when it lands, spikes tearing more at the skin. As soon as he pulls them free, he brings it down again, harder this time. Some of the spikes go so deeply in Steve’s skin that Bucky has to pull them out by hand. Steve’s deep under, barely moving though his abs do tremble when Bucky’s fingers graze his skin.

Steve’s cock is half-hard, caught between how much Steve loves this and how much it hurts. Bucky wraps his hand around it, squeezing lightly, leaving bloody fingerprints on the velvet soft skin. 

“You sure?” He asks quietly, and another tremor runs through Steve, a sub-verbal yes. “Oh, Steve.” Bucky breathes the words and laughs quietly with something like wonder. “You beautiful masochist.”

Something shivers through Steve, laughter or agreement or please. Bucky pulls his hand away from Steve’s cock, stiff and hard now. Bucky leans down and kisses the head. He pulls away and brings down the flogger another three times, letting the tails dig into Steve’s inner thighs, a few of the strands striking Steve’s dick.

Steve shudders and comes, blood mixing with it as it lands on Steve’s stomach. Most of the marks are invisible as he softens.

“You okay? “ Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Enough?” The slightest bit of tension creeps into Steve’s shoulders and Bucky smiles. “All right. Turn over for me.”

He has to help him, none of Steve’s super-strength in effect. He whimpers when he goes onto his stomach, but the way he settles so easily lets Bucky know he’s revelling in it. 

The marks from the whip are gone, none of them deep enough to last. “You know, I didn’t tell you you were allowed to come that time either. Really going to have to punish you now.”

Steve spreads his legs wider and Bucky laughs. They spread even farther in response, Steve’s way of seeking out more of Bucky’s approval. Bucky stares at him, burning Steve into his memory, something no one can ever make him forget again.

Leaning forward, he presses a line of kisses from Steve’s shoulder to his spine. “I’m not going far. I’m right here with you.”

He walks over and gets the cane, slapping it on his left hand. Steve moans at the sound of it hitting metal. And Bucky has to swallow hard. Moving back to the bed, he runs it up and down Steve’s back and thighs, over his ass, teasing between the cheeks. All the tension that had been in Steve’s shoulders moments before is fading, dissipating as the bamboo slides along his skin. 

Grabbing a short and thick metal dowel from the nightstand drawer, he works it into Steve’s grasp. Steve’s fingers close around it. Bucky knows Steve won’t be able to talk between arousal and impact, so the bar is for him to drop if it gets to be too much.

He knows that Steve won’t drop it.

“All right.” Bucky licks his lips and lays the cane across Steve’s shoulders. “Don’t come.”

Steve’s hand tightens on the bar, but his entire body stays relaxed. Bucky knows he could tell Steve to do anything right now, and Steve would do it. It’s fucking heady, especially since most of the time Steve is physically incapable of doing what he’s told.

Bucky is stupidly in love with an idiot.

He brings the cane down, sharp and hard, and the crack of it fills the room. He counts to ten then brings it down again. He keeps the rhythm up, working is way down Steve’s body from his shoulders to the bottoms of his feet, occasionally glancing at Steve’s hand.

Gorgeous, deep welts line Steve’s body, deep red. The points where the end of the cane hit his skin are the deeper purple of a bruise. Bucky moves to the other side of the bed, Starting the same pattern on strikes, hitting between the existing welts.

Steve’s forehead is on the pillow, his chin to his chest. His breathing is shallow and fast. Bucky pauses and squats down and he can see the dried tear tracks, the clumped eyelashes as Steve blinks rapidly. There’s a string of spit between Steve’s mouth and the pillow. He’s a complete and utter mess.

“So beautiful,” Bucky whispers, breath against Steve’s ear so he can hear him in the other world Steve’s in. Steve shivers as Bucky stands, as he runs the tip of the cane along the ladder of welts. Steve makes a helpless nose, and Bucky raises the cane again, counting to ten before he makes the first diagonal stripe.

Blood wells up to the skin, darkening it, breaking on the second strike when Bucky brings it down in the same place. By the time he finishes, there’s not a single place from Steve’s shoulders to his knees that doesn't have a thick red welt across it.

Steve’s entire body is quivering and he’s clearly at the edge of his endurance. With the cane silent, Bucky can hear the unbroken sound falling from between Steve’s lips, part moan and part whimper. The sound jerks Bucky out of the daze he’d fallen into, the rhythm lulling him into another world of his own. He’s suddenly aware of the heavy weight of his erection, the tightness of his boxer briefs.

He trails his fingers up Steve’s back as he walks to the nightstand again to grab the lube. Moving back down Steve’s body, he lets the metal skim and dip into the slight indentations of Steve’s skin before twisting his wrist and pushing more firmly, scratching over Steve’s ass. Steve’s empty hand clutches in the sheets, the other still wrapped tight around the dowel. 

“Fuck. Love the way you bleed for me.”

Steve chokes on a breath from the words, from both of Bucky’s hands meeting at the cleft of his ass and spreading the supple flesh. Bucky kneels between Steve’s spread legs and leans in, breathing over Steve’s opening. He doesn’t pause before he swipes his tongue over it, feeling Steve jerk at the end of his tongue, but Bucky’s hands catch his hips and keep him from moving away. 

His tongue moves in soft, quick licks over the furled skin, dipping into the tight hole occasionally, pushing against it but not penetrating. Steve’s arms and legs give out almost simultaneously, his body slumping down to the bed. He makes a pained noise when his cock hits the mattress.

Bucky laughs softly, lying on the mattress as well, his mouth fitted over Steve’s hole, sucking and licking. He gives Steve no quarter, aggressive and hungry as he works his tongue in, pushes it deep. He points and flattens it, subjecting Steve a myriad of sensations that keep him trembling in Bucky’s hands.

Opening the lube, Bucky pours some over his fingers, replacing his tongue with one of them. Steve sobs roughly and Bucky bites the curve of his ass, teeth grazing the edge of one of the cane marks. Steve shakes in response, tremors wracking his body as his sobs get stronger. Bucky pushes a second finger in, spreading them apart.

“Fuck. Can’t…” Bucky pants, voice hoarse. “Need you.” He eases his fingers free and tugs his boxer briefs down, wrapping his hand around himself, stroking lube onto his cock. He knows he should prep Steve more, but whatever restraint he’s had is gone, and all he wants is to be inside him. He rubs his slick fingers over Steve’s hole again and then grabs the globes of his ass and spreads him, pressing his dick to the tight opening and pushing in slowly.

Steve’s body is pliant, all of his pain sensors overloaded and his pleasure center obviously blissed out. Bucky pulls back, just the tip of his cock inside Steve, then pushes in deep. He presses close, the broken welts on Steve’s skin hot againSt Bucky’s chest. He puts his arms alongside Steve’s, body covering his.

“Beautiful. So beautiful.”

Steve makes a low whimpering sound and turns his head to the side. Bucky kisses his cheek, flushed and wet with tears. Steve’s lips part, his head turning further and seeking out Bucky’s mouth. Bucky groans and kisses him, sloppy and awkward. He thrusts harder, faster, deeper until his body tightens. He pulls out quickly, stroking himself until he’s coming all over Steve’s back, come slipping into the welts the cane left behind. 

Steve shudders beneath him and Bucky sighs heavily and bites Steve’s earlobe. “Come for me.”

Steve body shudders under Bucky,as he gives himself over and lets himself go. Bucky lays there, heavy and grounding, pressing a series of barely-there kisses to Steve’s neck.

“Did so good, Steve. Were so good for me. Always so good. Go to sleep now, get some rest.” And Steve’s clearly still under, because he does exactly as he’s told.

 

+1)  
“C’mon.” Bucky faces Steve and tugs him with both hands.

“This is embarrassing.”

“You’ve got no room to talk, Rogers. C’mon.” He threads his fingers with Steve’s as he turns around to walk.

“I’m not _embarrassing_.”

“You’re a kiinky fucker who lets me flay him alive, and you’re worried about a little public nudity?”

“I’m not _worried_. Just… Well, I don’t want to have to deal with a lot of people talking about Captain America getting caught with his pants down.”

“And his boyfriend’s dick in his ass?” Bucky laughs

Steve huffs. “That too.”

“C’mon. It’ll be fun. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Steve puffs up like a chicken. “I’m not scared.”

“Because, I mean, if you’re not up for it, we can go back home. Watch TV or something.”

Steve glares at him. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do ya?” Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. He leans in and bumps his shoulder againSt Steve’s. “We really don’t have to.”

He looks at Bucky for a moment, brow furrowed. After a moment he shakes his head. “You really think I’m gonna tell you no? After everything you do for me?”

“it’s not a quid pro quo. I don’t do that because I expect to get something for it. I mean, I do get something. Seeing you wrecked like that?” He bumps his shoulder again, giving Steve a wide smile. “Trust me, I don’t complain about the results.”

Steve snorts. “You complain all the time.”

“Not about the _results_. I complain about the fact that you have the survival instinct of a pudding cup.”

Steve’s eyebrow goes up and it takes everything in Bucky to keep from smiling. “A pudding cup, huh? What flavor?”

Bucky laughs low, growly. “Depends on where I’m tastin’ you.” He revels in the blush high on Steve’s cheeks. “You’re so easy, I swear.”

“Yeah, well, you’re awful.”

Bucky tugs Steve in and turns him, pinning him to a tree. “Yeah?”

Steve’s breath catches, his pupils dilating slightly. “Yeah.”

Bucky leans in and bites Steve’s lower lip, tugging on it with his teeth before suckng it into his mouth. It melts into a slow, heavy kiss as Bucky slides his tongue into Steve’s mouth, tracing the roof with the tip of his tongue before tangling it with Steve’s. Steve makes a soft noise, eyes opening slowly when Bucky pulls away. “Still awful?”

“You stopped. So, yeah.”

He curves his hand around the back of Steve’s neck and kisses him again. Slipping his leg between Steve’s thighs, Bucky presses closer, letting the fingers of his free hand skate up the buttons of Steve’s shirt. He unbuttons the top button and Steve sucks in a little breath. Bucky looks at him, and every fuckng emotion he has for Steve rises up like a wave threatening to drown him. Anger and fear and frustration and so much goddamn love and affection that swamps everything else. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that? Always have been.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Bucky undoes another button and shakes his head. “Inside and out. Since the moment I fucking met you. Loved you and wanted you before I even knew what those things were. I didn’t care if everyone else thought it was wrong. Yours is the only opinion that ever mattered.” He frees the third button, and the dark blush on Steve’s face extends down, stark against the light blue of his shirt. “Still is.”

“Flattery won’t actually get you anywhere.”

“You never believe flattery.” Bucky unfastens another button and pushes one side of Steve’s shirt to the side so he can bend his head and trace hs tongue around Steve’s nipple. Steve makes a soft gasp, his back arching away from the tree. Bucky covers the hard nub with his mouth, licking and sucking before he closes his teeth around it to bite and tug. Steve makes a desperate sound low in his throat, but it changes to a whimper when Bucky pulls away.

Bucky smiles at him and undoes the rest of the buttons quickly, fingers deft as they pull the fabric free of Steve’s jeans. Steve’s cock is hard, bulging beneath the denim, and Bucky slides his hand over it. Steve whines. “C’mon.”

“Nope. Not yet. I have plans for you.” He smooths both hands down Steve’s shirt, feeling the firm muscle, the broadness of Steve’s shoulders, the thinness of his waist. “You know what i miss?” He steps closer and touches Steve’s shoulders again. “Suspenders.”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and pulls him close until their bodies are flush. “Gave me something to hold onto while I sucked your dick.” He kisses Bucky hard, hands flat against Bucky’s ass so he can’t move. “Gonna suck your dick right now, with or without them.”

“What if the public sees Captain America deep-throating his boyfriend?”

Steve growls and sinks to his knees. “Fuck Captain America.”

Bucky laughs. “With pleasure, but that’s not gonna happen if you suck my dick.”

Steve undoes Bucky’s pants quickly, shoving them out of the way and tugging Bucky’s cock out of his boxer briefs. Bucky moans softly as Steve licks the leaking head, tonguing the slit. “‘S okay. I’m willing to fuck you instead.”

“God, you know how to make a guy feel-” Bucky chokes on a groan as Steve takes him deep. There’s no build up, no teasing. Steve swallows him and sucks hard, tongue pressing against the underside of Bucky’s cock, rubbing and pressing on the vein. Bucky grabs Steve’s hair with both hands. Steve hums around him and Bucky goes up on his toes at the feeling. “Just...just. Fuck. Fuck. Yes. Just…”

Steve hums again, and Bucky can feel the fuckiing smirk. Then all he can feel is Steve’s hand, his thick fingers, sliding into his boxer briefs and rubbing against his hole. Even that’s overridden by the feel of Steve’s gasp as he realizes Bucky’s prepped, hole lubed slick and ready. He pushes one finger in - middle finger from the girth of it - into Bucky up to the first knuckle, sucking harder as he does. 

Bucky has to tighten his grip, even though he didn’t think it was possible, to keep himself standing as Steve works his finger deeping in slow, steady thrusts. Bucky’s ass clenches, his hole fluttering around Steve’s finger and he thrusts forward, rocking into Steve’s mouth.

He hears voices in the distance and, despite his teasing, he truly does expect Steve to draw back and put them both to rights. Instead Steve pushes in a second finger and Bucky has to bite back a desperate noise of surprise and want and white-hot arousal. “Fuck...Fuck. Steve. So-someone’s… Someone’s coming.”

Steve pulls off with a wet noise and looks up at Bucky. His eyelashes are clumped together from the tears in the corner of his eyes, and his mouth is red and spit-slick and swollen. Bucky’s cock _aches_ at the loss of his mouth, at the sheer hunger on Steve’s face. “Is it you?” HIs voice is rough and deep, and he thrusts his fingers in, a third one breaching Bucky’s rim. Bucky gasps and shakes his head and Steve gives him an absolutely filthy grin. “Then I don’t give a fuck.”

After that and the relentless tightness and suction of Steve’s mouth, and the hard and fast thrust of his three fingers curving and pressing againSt Bucky’s prostate, he comes embarrassingly quick. Steve pulls back and licks his lips, his fingers sliding free so he can put his hands on Bucky’s hips to keep him standing. When Bucky’s blood stops pounding in his ears he can still hear the voices as they get closer. He finally releases Steve’s hair and reaches to pull his jeans back up. 

“Uh-uh. Not through with you yet.”Steve gets to his feet in an easy and graceful movement and backs Bucky up until he feels the rough scratch of bark against his back and he can feel it tugging at his hair. Steve kisses him hard, tongue as aggressive in his mouth as it had been on his cock. When he pulls back, they’re both panting hard. 

“C-can return the favor.” Bucky’s voice is a high and breathy as he reaches for Steve’s fly. Steve bats his hand away and shakes his head.

“Turn around.”

“Steve, there are people coming.”

“Turn around.” It’s Steve’s voice of command, the one that gets everyone to fall in line behind Captain America’s plans, the one where they all ride into danger on a hope, a prayer, and Steve’s firm belief that might serves right, that good triumphs over evil. Bucky does as he’s told, following orders like a good soldier, like the man who would follow Steve anywhere, headlong. Always.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to shove Bucky’s jeans and boxer briefs down further, letting them fall to Bucky’s mid-thigh. They’d slip further down, but Steve kicks Bucky’s legs apart. The sound of Steve’s belt buckle being undone drowns out the approaching voices, the zipper sliding down makes everything else disappear. The hard, blunt tip of Steve’s cock presses against him and Bucky whines softly. 

Steve pushes in slowly, as steady and sure as his fingers had been. He buries himself inside Bucky, his cock stretching him further than his fingers, spreading the burn through him. His voice is barely a breath in Bucky’s ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

Bucky has to bite back and swallow the noises in his throat. Even said low it’s a command, just as sharp as ones whispered in the heat of battle. Silence should be easy. He’s used to hours of stillness as a sniper, the silent death that came with the Winter Soldier. But here, now, with Steve starting to move inside him, every lesson learned disappears with the need to writhe and moan and beg.

The first long, slow withdrawal until just the head of Steve’s dick is inside him almokt breaks him right away. For all that Steve loves to submit, he knows exactly how to take Bucky apart. His fingers grip Bucky's hips hard enough to bruise, holding Bucky still as he fucks into him. Bucky presses his lips together to prevent any noise but, even though he keeps any words in, a sound almost escapes. Especially because Steve doesn’t relent. He keeps moving, no longer even trying to tease. Bucky’s fingers curl into the bark of the tree, his metal hand crumbling it and gouging into the pale wood beneath. 

“Hear them, Buck? Coming closer?” Bucky’s whole body shakes, Steve’s hot breath fanning across his ear as he whispers. “Might hear us. Might see us.” 

Steve’s fingers dig into Bucky’s flesh harder, curving into the cut of his hips. Bucky swallows hard and tries to widen his stance, get Steve deeper, wordlessly asking for more, for harder. He can’t hear the voices around the blood pounding in his ears, but he can hear Steve.

“Probably a hundred yards away. How long do you think it’d take them to get here? Hm? How long do we have before they walk right by us and see you taking it? See me giving it to you just like you want? How long until you can’t hold the noises in and start begging me?”

Bucky pushes back, rocking his ass against Steve’s pelvis. He leaves deep furrows in the wood as his hand slips down. Tears stand hot in his eyes and he doesn’t think Steve’s ever fucked him this hard or this deep. He hasn’t had anything like this. The tears finally spill down his cheeks, drying immediately on the hot flush of his face. 

“Fuck, you take it so good. You want them to see us, don’t you? Want them to watch.”

Bucky can’t help the low, keening whine. He tries to swallow it down, but Steve is perfect inside him, made for him, and his thrusts find all the places that spark up Bucky’s spine. Steve hums and bites Bucky’s shoulder hard and Bucky chokes out a sob. “Please. Fuck, Stevie, please.”

Steve wraps a hand around Bucky’s waist to support him and slides the other down to his cock. He’s hard again and Steve works his dick in time with his thrusts. Sucking Bucky’s earlobe, exhaling hotly into Bucky’s ear and sending shivers down his spine. “Watch me fuck you. Watch you come for me. Watch you fuck back on my cock like you’re desperate for it. Want their eyes on you. Want them to see me take you, want them to see you belong to me.”

Bucky chokes, trying not to make a sound, not to give in to the need to groan, to ask Steve for more. The voices are close, too close, and Bucky knows he’s not going to get off in time, knows they’re going to see them, see Steve. See Captain America. Bucky’s heart pounds, and he whispers Steve’s name to try to get him to respond, to move away. 

Instead Steve clamps his hand over Bucky’s mouth and buries himself, holding them both Still. “Shh. Be good for me.”

He tries to close his eyes, but Steve turns his head, his breath in Bucky’s ear sending chills down his spine. Leaves crunch beneath the feet of the approaching people, and there are two of them, both women. Steve rolls his hips slightly and Bucky bites at his palm. Instead of a breath he gets Steve’s low chuckle in his ear. 

“See, Beth? I told you.”

“I _swear_ I saw Captain America walking this way. I mean, it’s hard to mistake someone else for him.” Steve huffs another laugh and Bucky’s cock jerks in Steve’s grip. They’re almost to the copse of trees where Bucky and Steve are hidden. Bucky’s heart rate speeds up, his breathing shallow with apprehension. They’re going to walk up, they’re going to see them. Bucky’s cock is painfully hard, and he lets his head fall back against Steve’s shoulder as Steve starts stroking him again. 

“Captain America’s not just out strolling around town. And people like us don’t meet people like him.”

“I swear it was him.”

“Wishful thinking. Now, can we go back? Mark and Jason are waiting for us. Remember? Double date?” 

“That you dragged me on.”

“Just come on.”

“Wait. A little further.” 

Steve sucks on Bucky’s earlobe as he speeds up his strokes. The girls are close enough that, if they walk five feet more, they’ll be looking right at them. Another step in the leaves, and another and Bucky’s body gives in. He comes hard, hot and slick in Steve’s hand. Steve moves his hand off Bucky’s dick and presses it against the tree again, starting to thrust even harder. 

“ _Beth_. Look, I’ll buy you an action figure or something okay? You can masturbate with it or whatever, but I would like to _actually_ get laid, so we’re going back.”

The footsteps slowly fade away and Bucky can suddenly breathe again, though it’s driven out of him by Steve’s thrusts again, increasingly hard, increasingly deep. Bucky gasps and grinds back. Steve’s hand is off his mouth, pressed instead to Bucky’s chest, holding him almost too close to thrust. 

Steve pants heavily against Bucky’s neck and then he stops, entire body stilling as he comes, pulsing and hot inside Bucky. They both shiver in unison and they slump forward, Bucky’s hands on the tree keeping them upright. “Okay?”

Bucky nods jerkily. “Y-yeah. Good. Great.”

“I suppose you want to do this again at some point.”

He turns his head and Steve moves, a soft kiss holding them close just as much as Steve being buried inside Bucky does. “Y-yeah. I mean…”

“Trust me, Buck.” Steve kisses him again, lips curved into a smile. “I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

 

++1)  
They get back and go straight from the roof to the med bay. It takes hours to be cleared to go, and the entire room is quiet, somber, painful. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s waist and they walk slowly from the elevator to their apartment. They don’t speak. They lean against each other, both weaker than they’d like to admit in the moment.

They both strip out of their uniforms and kick them aside, climbing into the shower together and standing beneath the spray without moving. Hot water pounds down on them, and they’re both staring at their feet, watching dirt and blood and other substances they probably don’t want to identify swirl down the drain.

Steve finally reaches for the soap and washcloth, getting both wet and rubbing the soap in the cocoon of the cloth until it’s thick with bubbles. He puts the soap down then turns Bucky around, starting on his shoulders and working down his back, over his ass, and down his legs. Bucky grabs the soap as Steve turns him, handing it down to him so he can repeat the process, working his way up from Bucky’s feet to his neck, scrubbing up to his hairline.. Bucky shivers despite the heat then takes the cloth from Steve.

It takes Steve a minute to turn away, and when he does, he braces himself on the wall, hands flat against the stone. Bucky scrubs at Steve’s skin, harder than Steve had his. This is the closest to pain Bucky will give him, those Steve can handle. His hands settle on Steve’s waist, and the first sob rips from Steve’s chest and he sinks down to his knees, head bowed.

Bucky kneels behind him, pressing as close as he can. Steve stays hunched over, refusing to lean into Bucky, to take comfort. Clint had taken a bad hit, nearly severing his femoral nerve, missing it, but the bullet still drove hard into the bone. Natasha had been unconscious for too long, and Bucky’s not sure Steve breathed the entire time she was down. The side of a building had fallen just after Bruce had changed back from the Hulk, and only Tony’s quick thinking had saved him, though it ended with Bucky having to use his metal arm to rip Tony out of his suit. 

Bucky’s not sure how long they stay like that on the floor, motionless save for the shake of Steve’s shoulders when he can’t bite back his sobs. Bucky doesn't want him to. He wants Steve to leave all his fear and pain in here so the water can wash it all down the drain with the other detritus of the battle.

Steve finally slumps back against Bucky. The water’s still warm but he’s shaking, wrung out and worn out. “I can’t let them do this, Buck. They’re human.”

“You can’t stop them. And you wouldn’t, even if you could. Because you know they do it because it’s the right thing to do. Same reason you walked into that Vita-Ray chamber. Same reason you probably would have sneaked onto a ship and got yourself to the battlefront even as skinny and sickly as you were. Because sometimes people do the right thing, because it’s the only thing they can do.” He kisses Steve’s temple and eases him onto the floor. “I’m gonna get you dried off, and then I’m putting you to bed.”

“I’m not a child.”

“In that case, I’m not making the hot cocoa with marshmallows.” He stands, feeling the twinge in his legs, even though he knows he can take far worse punishment than kneeling for almost an hour. He turns the water off and opens the door, letting the steam swirl even more viciously into the warm room as he grabs a towel. “Come on. Stand up.”

Steve gets to his feet, and for a moment, he looks every one of his hundred-plus years. Bucky dries him off carefully, gently. He puts the towel on Steve’s head and rubs his hair and scalp, pulling the towel away and smiling at the ruffled blond mess it leaves behind. He wraps his own hair up in a turban and pushes Steve into the bedroom. He pulls out boxer briefs and sweats, a t-shirt and a hoodie, as well as a pair of thick socks. Steve gets dressed obediently and follows Bucky into the kitchen after he’s dressed as well.

Steve leans against the counter as Bucky pours milk into a pan and turns on the flame, grabbing a container of chocolate chunks out of the pantry. Steve hands him the grater and Bucky starts shaving the chocolate into long, thin strips. Steve breaks another large chunk into smaller bits with his hands and carries the pile over to the milk, stirring it in. Bucky brings over most of the shavings and puts them in as well, wrapping one arm around Steve as he uses the other to stir.

Steve rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder, an occasional shiver going through him. “Why don’t you go start a fire,” Bucky says softly. “Grab a blanket and sit on the couch? I’m almost done here.” He sweeps his hand up and down Steve’s back. “Go on. I’ll even give you marshmallows.”

Steve smiles, just a slight curve of his lips. “Thanks.”

Bucky kisses him lightly and taps Steve on the ass. “Go.”

When he walks back into the living room, Steve’s moved the couch so it’s right in front of the fire. He’s sitting on the floor and leaning back against it, one of their thick, soft blankets wrapped up around his neck despite the heat the fire gives off. Bucky hands him the two cocoas then slips under the blanket beside him, taking one of the mugs back.

Slipping his hand around Steve’s waist again, Bucky tugs him closer. He turns his head and kisses Steve’s shoulder then his jaw. “Okay?”

He shakes his head. “Getting there. Maybe.”

“Okay.” He rests his head against Steve’s, closing his eyes as he listens to the crackle and pop of the fire. The remaining tension in his muscles seems to melt, but he can still feel that Steve’s not completely relaxed. Bucky takes a sip of his cocoa then looks over at him. Steve’s got a furrow between his brows. “You did everything you could. There’s nothing you could have or would have done differently.”

“I know.” 

The thing is that Steve does know. Bucky thinks that’s what makes it all so hard. He digs his fingers lightly into Steve’s hip and bows his head, mouth on Steve’s shoulder. It’s at times like these that he wishes he could offer Steve all the things that make him lose the tightness of his body, the weight that he carries on his shoulders. But that’s exactly what Steve doesn’t need. This he needs to feel. He needs to let himself feel it, because it’s times like these that the weight is the only thing that keeps him from falling apart.

This is what Steve needs now because he’s already hurting. He’s feeling every knife, every bullet, every hit, every moment of not being able to breathe. He’s feeling them all and he has to learn to live through it, has to learn how to survive. Steve never seems to realize that surviving is all he’s ever done, but Bucky knows he wouldn’t believe it if he told him. He never has before.

Steve takes it, takes it on for all of them. Takes all of the pain so the rest of them can heal. Bucky can’t stop him, but he can do this, just like he does after every time they play. They practice Steve feeling it all and making it into something he owns instead of something that owns him. Bucky can hold him and care for him and wrap him up and remind him of who he is, of the kind of man he is, of what he means to each and every one of them.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers.

“I know.” Steve closes his eyes and smiles, humming under his breath. He turns to look at Bucky and kisses him softly. Bucky doesn’t know what he’d do without Steve, what Steve would do without him. He never intends to find out. “I love you too.”


End file.
